"Yes, yes," he granted. "I must save the other one." It was difficult to sip it, for Miss Alathea's juleps were like nectar to his thirsty palate, but he restrained himself and drank of this last ambrosial glass with great deliberation, trying to make it last as long as possible.
"What are all those bundles, Colonel?" asked Miss Alathea, pointing to the packages which old Neb had brought in.
"They're for Madge. She bought them yesterday." He sighed. "Ah, will you ever forget yesterday?"
"Oh, don't speak of it!"
"Can't help it." The Colonel waxed enthusiastic at the mere memory of the great occasion. "Whoopee!" he cried. "What a race it was!"
"To think," said Miss Alathea, "that I—I—should enter a race-track!"
"To think that I—should stay out of one!"
"It was all your fault, Colonel," said Miss Alathea. "In your excitement after the race you grasped my hand and I was compelled to follow."
"How strange!" exclaimed the Colonel, slowly, with a slight smile tickling at the corners of his mouth. "At times I fancied you were in the lead, I following."
"Colonel," said the lady slowly, "perhaps I might as well confess. I've made a discovery. The sin isn't so much in looking at the horses run—it's in betting on them. That's where souls are lost."